


Cover

by RittaPokie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AFAB Mollymauk, Assassin/Target - Freeform, Other, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex, but fantasy birth control exists don't think too hard about it, patching up wounds, royal!AU, some blood because bren was unseriously wounded, war of attrition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RittaPokie/pseuds/RittaPokie
Summary: apparently there's no tag for this ship but you need to get on board. they're two smartasses trying to out-smartass each other who have turned up their seduction games to the max.I've had this bouncing around in my head for a while now, and I want it to be a longer series, but for now I'm just posting this smut because I was inspired to write it.The premise is that Bren was sent to assassinate prince of the dynasty Molly, failed, was captured, and willingly entered an agreement to be Molly's personal guard (and general companion) in order to gain info on the dynasty. This one shot is following a second (fake) attempt on Molly's life, meant to endear Bren to the dynasty even more.
Relationships: Bren Aldric Ermendrud/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Widomauk - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Cover

Bren hisses as he pushes at the wound. It lies just above his shoulder blade, crossing over his neck. It was meant for his throat, it could’ve hit his spine, but it did neither of those things. Instead, he was left with a flesh wound, pierced across his upper back. It will scar.

With a hand mirror tilted behind his left shoulder, and a needle in his right hand, he can just reach it to stitch the wound closed, holding the thread between his teeth to pull it taut with each knot. He flinches when the door to his room opens, but doesn’t stop what he is doing, even when Mollymauk sits on the vanity stool with him, half-kneeling on the plush cushion behind him.

“You know, we have healers for things like this,” Mollymauk quips, meeting Bren’s eyes in the mirror in front of them.

“Scars add character,” Bren says through gritted teeth, not letting go of the thread until Molly tugs it away from him, along with the needle. “I thought you, of all people, would understand this.”

“You don’t have enough of that already?” Mollymauk asks. The tiefling’s work is careful, practiced - not at this, but he is a skilled embroiderer, Bren knows.

Bren chooses not to answer this question. He just sort of zones out while Mollymauk stitches up his wound, and then hands off a cloth for Molly to wipe the blood away with. When he’s finished, Molly rests his head on Bren’s shoulder, eyelids drooping sleepily at the redhead in the mirror. Bren’s head is lowered as he stares at the floor, avoiding something in Mollymauk’s gaze. Gratitude, perhaps?

He glances up, towards Molly, not the mirror, and the tiefling cuts his eyes to the side to meet him - and smiles. Always, always so smug. Molly’s right hand holds at Bren’s bicep to support himself, and the left skims the wound he just stitched with a feather-light touch. All ten fingers are stained by Bren’s blood, haphazardly wiped with an already bloodied cloth.

“You should be more careful, you know,” Mollymauk says. “I’m not quite done with you yet-”

Bren doesn’t let him punctuate that sentence, catching the tiefling’s lips with his own. Mollymauk relents to him willingly, eagerly, his lips parting with a short, soft inhale. A hand comes to Bren’s cheek, long nails biting against the skin beneath a day’s worth of stubble.

He pulls away just as suddenly. “I am sorry, your highness,” he says, his voice hoarse and lowered, a hush against Molly’s cheek.

Mollymauk studies Bren’s eyes a moment, and then his lips twitch into a smile, and he keeps his fingers stroking against Bren’s jaw. “No, you’re not,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “You’ve wanted to do that for a long time, haven’t you?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to Bren’s shoulder, inches from the injury.

“What I want is of no consequence,” Bren says. “I am still here to end your life, eventually.”

“When I’m not useful anymore?” Mollymauk asks candidly. He shifts his weight on the stool so that he can whisper into the assassin’s ear, his breath hot against the crescent shell. “Promise me you’ll fuck me first…”

A shiver works its way down Bren’s spine, from the base of his skull to the soles of his feet, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. Outwardly, he gives it his best effort not to react at all, locking eyes with Mollymauk in their reflection.

Bren stands abruptly, jostling Mollymauk. There’s a brief look of disappointment on the tiefling’s face before Bren hauls him up by the front of his flowy silk dressing gown, backs him against the foot of his over-fluffed down mattress, and throws him down onto it. Molly shifts on the bed, his chest heaving slightly as he pants - surprise and desire equal in his expression.

The redhead leaves a trail of kisses up Molly’s inner thigh on his way, moving until he’s poised above him on the bed. There’s a flash of purple in his peripheral before he remembers the tiny dagger the tiefling sheathed against a garter at the beginning of the evening - and Bren finds it at his throat suddenly. He feels the grin grow on his face, and he chuckles.

“Are you gonna be a good boy?” Molly asks, breathless but as full of mischief as ever.

“I am always a good boy,” Bren says. He pushes the blade down against the bed and captures the tiefling in another kiss. Deeper, unabashed, bruising his own lips as well as Molly’s. When he pulls away this time, it’s to suck his own fingers into his mouth, and draw them out slick.

He shakes his hand beneath silky undergarments, and for all his rough handling of Molly moments before, his touch is gentle. He toys with the tiefling for a moment, watching him squirm, before he presses his fingers in.

“I did not need to lick them, did I?” He whispers against Molly’s neck, leaving bruising bites there. The tiefling whimpers, arching his back.

“Shut up-“ Molly mumbles, but his snark is cut off by a groan when Bren finds his clit with his thumb. “Gods, fuck me- I’m ready…”

“I can tell,” Bren chides him. “No more snide remarks? Where is your spirit, Mollymauk?”

“I wanna get fucked more than I wanna be a smartass,” Molly admits, letting out a breathless chuckle that cuts into a pitchy moan as Bren slows his attentions even more, pressing his weight into Molly to still his bucking hips

“What makes you so sure I had that in mind?” Bren asks.

“Your cock pressed against my thigh,” Molly bites back.

“Perhaps I should leave you like this,” Bren says, and Molly whines despite trying to bite it back, “repay you for months of teasing.”

“I have hands of my own,” Molly retorts, “and plenty of cocks. Specially made for me, expensive, enchanted even, it doesn’t have to be yours.”

“You sound very confident of that,” Bren says, and he calls Molly’s bluff, pulling his hand away completely. He stares down with a smirk as his highness wriggles and groans in frustration beneath him.

“You’re a prick,” Molly says. His bottom lip quirks into a pout that Bren has to chuckle at, it’s so sweet and adorable.

“If you want me to fuck you, Mollymauk,” Bren says, leaning over the tiefling to make direct eye contact, their faces only inches apart, “you are going to have to admit your loss in this game that you started.”

Molly raises his head, their noses brushing together, and he shifts so his lips are almost at Bren’s again. “Never,” he says, and relaxes back on the bed. “I don’t give up that easily.”

“As you wish,” Bren says, and he slides back down the bed and off of it, “your highness.”

Bren grabs his shirt, adjusting it onto himself as he makes his way towards the door. “Hey, Bren,” Molly says, and as the redhead turns to face him, Molly is at his side in a flash.

He pulls the assassin down into a kiss, biting at his lips until he opens his mouth to Molly’s tongue. Bren’s hands grip white-knuckled at Molly’s dressing gown. Molly hops up, cinching his legs around Bren’s waist, knowing that the wizard can’t support his weight freely - Bren stumbles back against the wall, his boots squeaking against the floor as he slides down it onto his ass. Molly’s fingernails bite red lines down Bren’s chest, making him bow under the touch. He tugs at the belt of Bren’s trousers, ripping it away and taking him in hand. Bren buries his face into Molly’s neck and his teeth sink against the flesh of his throat with a groan.

“Draw,” Molly says, twisting his wrist as he jerks Bren fast.

Bren gasps, and his blue eyes flash to Molly’s. “Ja, draw,” he agrees, and he has to bite his lip to cut off a moan as Molly sinks down onto him, grinding their hips together hard before rising up again and working up to a fast, brutal pace.

In seconds, Molly is trembling and whining against him, the movements of his hips jerky, greedily chasing his own climax. Bren finds his clit again, rubbing with a slow pace in juxtaposition, and Molly’s body lurches suddenly. He wails into Bren’s shoulder, his whole body shaking until he collapses, shivering and twitching, against the redhead.

As much as Bren would love to give a retort, he’s too close to think of one, too entranced by watching Mollymauk orgasm. It’s a spectacle that he wasn’t as prepared for as he thought he would be. “Mollymauk, can you…” his voice gets cut off in a sharp intake of breath and flutter of his eyelids as Molly shifts to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, but not here,” Molly says, “the bed. My knees…”

Molly stands on wobbly legs, tugging Bren’s hand to pull him along, and stumbles them to the edge of the bed. The feeling Bren gets when he sinks back into Molly’s arms, his heat, is atmospheric, and he feels himself being pulled in. He presses his face against the silken sheets, desperate to detach from the situation, think of anything else, but there is nothing. All that he finds is Molly’s arms wrapped around his body, a hand petting his hair, the voice in his ear breathing “come for me”.


End file.
